


Her Mouth for Immolation was Ripe

by Persiflage



Series: Kissing Prompts [17]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Future Fic, Kissing, POV Character of Color, PoV Michael Burnham, Post-Season/Series 02, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19415230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Post S2: The former Terran Emperor takes her relationship with Michael in a new direction.





	Her Mouth for Immolation was Ripe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acardio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acardio/gifts).



> Written for my 25 Kissing Prompts self-challenge for the prompt _top of head kisses_. Title from Sappho's _The First Kiss_.

Michael’s head down, buried in the reports she’s working on with regard to her ‘run’ as the Red Angel, when something brushes the top of her head. She looks up, baffled, and sees Philippa settling down into the chair across from her own.

“Yes?” the Terran says. There’s a hint of amusement in her eyes, but Michael decides not to rise to the bait.

“Nothing,” Michael says, and bends her head until her chin’s on her chest before she slowly rolls her neck to the left, then to the right.

“You’ve been at that for hours,” Philippa observes. 

“I know,” Michael says shortly, standing up to stretch. She notes the way that the Terran’s eyes drop to her waist when her tee pulls up out of her pants as she stretches her arms over her head. 

“Come on.” Philippa gets to her feet suddenly, then holds out a hand.

Michael just gives her a wary look, and the other woman rolls her eyes. “A spot of exercise will get the blood flowing properly,” she says. “Do you some good after hunching over those Padds all day.”

Michael takes Philippa’s hand, wondering curiously what sort of exercise she has in mind. She finds out when the Terran tugs her close, then spins her about towards the corner of Michael’s new, bigger quarters that she’s set up as a space to exercise.

“Take your boots off,” Philippa orders, and slips off her own. 

Michael watches in fascination as the other woman also strips off her midnight blue leather coat, then quickly divests herself of a handful of weapons that were secreted about her person. Then she straightens up and beckons Michael forward. 

“We should warm up our muscles first,” she reminds Philippa. “I imagine Doctor Pollard might be quite sarcastic otherwise.”

The Terran snorts, but seems to concede the value of warming up first as she begins a series of stretches and bends. Michael follows suit, and when she’s satisfied she won’t be injured through lack of preparation, she cocks her head at Philippa, one eyebrow raised. The other woman smirks, then moves in fast and hard, but Michael meets her and diverts her blows, and she feels a rush of excitement as she realises she hasn’t forgotten any of the moves Captain Philippa used to use when they sparred together.

Their fight is fast and brutal, and would probably alarm anyone who watched them – which makes Michael glad they’re doing this in the privacy of her quarters as she’s not sure she’d want spectators.

What she had forgotten, she quickly discovers, is how arousing fighting Philippa can be. She particularly notices it when she manages to pin the Terran to the mat, both hands tight on Philippa’s wrists, and Michael’s body pressing down hard against the other woman. The Terran flexes beneath her, but she makes no real effort to escape from Michael’s hold. When she lifts her head to kiss Michael, biting down on her bottom lip, Michael barely manages not to climax there and then.

Then, while she’s somewhat distracted, Philippa flexes her body, and Michael suddenly finds herself flat on her back with the Terran pinning her to the mat. 

“Had enough?” Philippa asks.

Michael sighs heavily. “Yes.”

The Terran nods, and starts to loosen her grip on Michael’s forearms, which is enough to give her the room to repeat Philippa’s manoeuvre so that she finds herself pinned again. 

“Have _you_ had enough?” Michael asks cheekily.

“For now,” Philippa agrees. “No more tricks.” Michael raises a single eyebrow at this, and the former Emperor chuckles. “Pax.”

Michael nods. “Pax.” She lets go of the Terran’s arms, and is startled when Philippa grabs the sides of her face and pulls her head down so she can press a kiss to the top of it.

“What was that for?” she wonders.

The Terran shrugs, faux-nonchalant. “Nothing.”

Michael shakes her head slightly, then lowers her head and kisses Philippa properly, eliciting a moan from the other woman as her hands slide down Michael’s back, then back up to clasp her shoulders.

“If we’re going to do more than kiss, can we at least relocate to that very decadent looking bed of yours?” Philippa asks when they break apart to catch their breath.

Michael chuckles. “I think that can happen, yes.” 

“Thank you.” 

They help each other up, then move over to Michael’s bed. This isn’t going to get her reports written, she thinks. On the other hand, she does deserve a break, and if Philippa wants to have sex with her, she cannot say no. She sinks down onto the bed, and tugs on Philippa’s hand. The Terran smirks, then climbs up beside her and resumes kissing Michael.

“I’m going to blow your mind,” Philippa murmurs, and Michael shivers.

“Yes please.”

She can hardly wait.


End file.
